


Watching Sherlock

by rejectbaboon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF John, Characters Watching their Own Show, F/F, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 17:35:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8809867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rejectbaboon/pseuds/rejectbaboon
Summary: Using his position and unusual friends in the government, Mycroft gathers everyone at the Diogenes Club to watch the truth of what's happened so far in their lives, in order to better prepare for the danger that's coming. Will John, Sherlock and the others gain more understanding of each other and learn to defeat their enemies together, or will this push them even more apart?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm only writing this for entertaining purposes, because I lvoe the characters and I love to imagine them in situations such as this. I'm making NO MONEY out of this, and I HAVE NO CLAIM OVER THE CHARACTERS/PLOT/IDEAS of Sherlock (BBC) or Conan Doyle's original stories whatsoever. I'm simply playing.
> 
> English isn't my first language, and even though I've studied at uni in England for three years (graduated in July), I still don't have the firm grasp over the language that I wish for. That being said, I don't mind people correcting my grammar/spelling etc
> 
> I obviously don't have a beta and please let me know if something doesn't sound particularly British :D. Hope everyone will enjoy, please leave me comments with your opinions and I'll try my best to answer.

****PROLOGUE** **

 

“It is done, I presume.”

 

“Yes. It took some considerable effort. Magic and muggle technology are hard to combine, but here you are.”

 

The younger man placed the three DVD cases on the rich mahogany desk, before leaning back in his chair and summoning the tea cup to his hand.

 

The older gentleman regarded him with a neutral expression before he allowed the slighest curl to his lips.

 

“I assure you your efforts will be richly rewarded.”

 

A shake of head.

 

“No need. Happy to help. I appreciate the good relationship between our worlds ever since your appointment to the office Mr. Holmes.”

 

“Yes, indeed, Mr. Potter.”

 

****CHAPTER 1** **

 

“This is hateful.”

 

“I must be out of my mind, I find myself agreeing with the Freak.”

 

“That’s enough Donovan. Sherlock, what are we -”

 

“Use your eyes, Lestrade. Going by the numerous couches and armchairs arranged in such a manner as to be facing the alarmingly large TV screen in front of you, as well as by the pile of DVD’s placed in the middle of the coffe table I can only assume that we’ve been summoned to this odious makeshift cinema to watch the films together. Odious and dull.”

 

John cannot remember a time when Sherlock’s tone had been more venomous. He could not help but wonder at the strangeness of this. He also thought it quite dangerous to place Sherlock in this environment, and with Anderson and Donovan no less.

Surely a recipe for disaster.

 

The only thing that could make this worse would be if Mycroft were to be here too.

 

He barely got to imagine it, before the tale tell sound of an umbrella continuously hitting the wooden floorboards hit his ears and he pursed his lips.

 

Of course. Question was, could this be Mycroft’s doing?

 

It didn’t really smell like something the British government would arrange. Too pedestrian.

 

 _ _God, I’m beginning to sound like them__.

 

It took him a second to hear the second pair of steps acompanying the elder Holmes.

 

John watch incredulously as Mycroft entered the room, guiding Ms. Hudson into the large room before closing the wooden double doors.

 

“Brilliant deductions, little brother. Although I have to admit, low below your standards.”

 

Sherlock swivelled around, his face contorting in disgust.

 

“ _ _Mycroft__. I suspected this is your doing, though I couldn’t quite believe you’d lower yourself to this level.”

 

The elder Holmes smiled thinly before walking towards the lonely armchair situated farthest from the couches, near the fireplace.

 

“Take a seat ladies and gentleman. Considerable efforts have been put into making this event happen. I believe it is time for you to have a glimpse at the truth. The truth is that our lives and London itself is in great danger, and if we are to survive we will need a united front. Now what you are about to witness is never to leave this room, and I would strongly suggest you heed my advise, lest you find yourself in..difficult situations.”

Mycroft ignored Sherlock’s disdainful scoff, smiling thinly before nodding at Anthea, who John hadn’t even noticed was in the room.

 

Everyone took a seat, some more hesitant than others. John guided Ms. Hudson to seat on the couch to his left, while Sherlock took his coat and scarf off with jerky motions before sprawling to his right.

 

Donovan and Anderson where seated next to each other on the other couch, Lestrade next to them near Mycroft’s armchair.

 

John could hear Donovan and Anderson whispering between themselves in harsh tones,Lestrade attempting to shush them unsuccessfully. He seemed exasperated and resigned enough not to ask anymore questions.

 

“What is happening, boys? Sherlock, what trouble have you gotten yourself into now?”

 

John patted Mr. Hudson’s arm. “It’s okay Ms. Hudson, Sherlock didn’t -”.

 

“You can blame Mycroft for this Ms. Hudson, not me.”

 

“But what -”

 

Everyone ceased to speak as huge TV lip up and the room was filled with sounds. Anthea walked back to the back of the room, seating herself in her own armchair, eyes never leaving her phone.

 

They watched the chaotic scene of an armed struggle somewhere in the east.

 

John suddenly paled and went rigid, while Sherlock gasped and sat up in his seat, leaning forward.

 

**_**_In a bedsit somewhere in London, John Watson is having a nightmare. He is reliving his Army days and his team is under fire somewhere abroad. A colleague cries out his name as the gunfire continues._ ** _ **

**_**** _ **

**_**_Finally he jolts awake, distressed and panic-stricken. He sits up in bed wide-eyed and breathing heavily until he realises that he is safe and a long way from the war. Flopping back onto his pillow, he tries to calm his breathing as he continues to be haunted by his memories. Eventually, unable to stop himself, he begins to weep._ ** _ **

Mycroft clicks the remote and the TV screen freezes with the last image of John’s face contorted in a sob, and if present John ever wished to die, the feeling had never been as strong as now at the utter humiliation.

 

He clenched his jaw and bowed his head, staring unseeingly at hands which were clenched around his knees.

 

He could feel Ms. Hudson hesitating next to him, hand hovering between them before going back to her mouth.

 

Utter silence.

 

Impossible. How? How, how, __how, HOW?!!__ Sherlock sprung up and stalked towards the flat screen, from one corner of the huge screen to the other, analysing, observing. Coming flat.

 

The others stare in shock, eyes going from the TV to John, to the two other DVD cases which Sherlock was curently pawing at, to finally rest on Mycroft.

 

Mycroft softly clears his throat, gaining the attention of everyone.

 

“ The Minster of Muggle Relations owed me a favour, so to speak. Magic exists. The magical world is kept a secret from muggles - ordinary humans, but there are choice people in positions of power who are informed.”

 

“Impossible. __Impossible.__  I would have known, there is no such thing as __magic,__ Mycroft! Cease these childlish notions and tell me how you did this and why!”

 

Sherlock’s voice was so fast it was almost impossible to understand what he was saying. His eyes were wild and stormed to Mycroft’c chair, hands on the armrests, leaning threateningly towards his brother, eyes narrowed.

 

Mycroft didn’t move an inch, staring impassively at his brother, but Sherlock snarled at the slightest flicker of smugness in the elder Holmes’ eyes.

 

But no matter how hard he tried, Sherlock couldn’t deduce anything that could prove that Mycroft was lying. Nothing. Nothing. How could he not have known. How could he have known, Sherlock was a man of science.

 

Science, always told the truth. Science, the science of deduction. Chemicals, physics, biology.

 

The hair was raised on his arms and his mind was in chaos, thoughts and memories clambering the walls of his mind at an alarmingly overwhelming rate.

 

Wrong, everything was wrong. His world was shaken to its deepest foundations.

 

It rankled deep in and made him bristle at the thought that Mycroft knew about this and he didn’t. He came out empty, his mind palace was failing him. Utterly hateful and embarassing.

 

Across the room, John was utterly puzzled. He could not understand how this could have happened. For a moment his jumbled mind tried to think of a rational reason for the images on the screen and the only logical assumption was that Mycrof had to have had his bedsit under surveillance even before he met Sherlock. But it was impossible, he couldn’t have known they would meet. Furthermore, there was also the fact that no video tape of the war could have been such an accurate description of his recurring nightmare. It was eerie and weird, and utterly impossible.

 

And bloody humiliating.

 

“What.is.this.”

 

His jaw clenched and unclenched repeatedly, following the motion of his fists.

 

Sherlock turned around to watch him with an unreadable expression. Not that John Watson could read anything at the moment.

 

Mycroft’s face was neutral, and John wanted to punch his bloody nose in for plunging it in other people’s business. He didn’t care how the bastard managed to do his, but John wasn’t having it.

 

“This John, is what we all need in order to understand each other.”

 

“And how would understanding my deepest secrets and humiliating moments help the people in this bloody room, hmm.”

 

He’d often chided Sherlock for not asking a question properly, however he found himself unable to intonate now, with his teeth ground together.

 

“I assure you John, while it might not seem so at the moment, this is crucial, and we will continue whether you like it or not. Never worry, there are no..indescreet, shall we say, scenes and your privacy in some areas is maintained. I might also mention that this is not only about you, but also about everyone in this room..”

 

Mycroft stoped wearily, eyes almost glazed over, gazing ahead while he tapped the armchair with his left forefinger. A few seconds later he smiled grimly, eyes flying from Sherlock to John and back.

 

“..I myself, am put at a disadvantage. Nevertheless, it will be done.”

 

Sherlock made a sound of disagreement, eyes going back to John from where he was glaring at his brother.

 

“If John doesn’t want everyone in this room to watch this, then you will hand it to us Mycroft, and only the two of us will watch. I don’t blame him, having Anderson watch our private life.”

 

After his rage managed to settle a bit, John felt a strong rush of affection forhis friend. He was extremely uncomfortable with this. It was bloody hell.

 

But while the brothers were busy glaring at each other, his eyes went to the other people in the room. Ms. Hudson was looking around in concern, and he could hear her whispering ‘ _ _Oh dear__ ’ under her breath.

 

To be fair, it wasn’t that he was that bothered over Ms. Hudson witnessing his life..but he wasn’t so sure about the other people in the room. Particularly Mycroft, Donovan and Anderson. While he considered Lestrade a close friend, he hated the thought of Mycroft’s even worse than usual invasion in his and Sherlock’s privacy. Not to mention the disgust he felt at Donovan and Anderson shoving their noses in their business once more. He still hadn’t gotten over the strong dislike he’d taken of the two after what they did to Sherlock.

 

But the room was tense and more than anything he wanted the image of him crying to disappear from the screen, and he wanted to understand what the hell this was, because despite his reluctance and terror at having his private life exposed, this was too interesting not to watch.

 

Maybe he could take Sherlock’s offer to watch it together, just the two of them. But then, a new wave of terror overwhelmed him. The thought of Sherlock watching these at all. He’ll figure John’s secret out in seconds.

 

Maybe he already knew.

 

He shut the thought down immediatly because if he allowed himself to start panicking about that as well..

 

John pursed his lips, inhaling before giving a short, curt nod. Sherlock noticing his resolve threw one last glare at his brother before stalking back to his seat next to John on the couch.

 

The images started again on the big screen and captured everyone’s attention. John’s heart was beating out fo his chest and he felt the anticipation was so thick in the room, you could probably cut it with a knife and serve it on a plate.

 

**_**_  
_ ** _ ** **_**_Some time later he has sat up on the side of the bed and switched on the bedside lamp. It’s still dark outside. John sits quietly, wrapped up in his thoughts, and looks across to the desk on the other side of the room. A metal walking cane is leaning against the desk. He looks at it unhappily, then continues to gaze into the distance. He will not be sleeping again tonight._ ** _ **

**_**** _ **

The room was silent as everyone observed the doctor’s old room. If you could call it that. Lestrade winced in sympathy as he thought that the cells at the yard were more spacious than that little bedsit. Maybe even had more of a personal touch.

 

John sad stiff shouldered, back straight in mirrored position and expression of the one on the screen. His leg twitched with a phantom pain.

 

**_**_The light of the day filled the room and John limped across to his desk, where he placed an RAMC cup of tea and an apple on his desk, before sitting down and opening a drawer._ ** _ **

****

“John, surely that isn’t a proper breakfast..” Ms Hudson shook her head, left arm supporting her right as she twitched her fingers worryingly at her mouth.

 

John felt a wave of affection for his landlady. Sherlock next to him threw them a look from the corner of his eye.

 

“Ms Hudson, that was months ago and besides, I probably had some fish and chips for tea that day anyway.”

 

“Actually it was chinese.”

 

Everyone turns their eyes to Sherlock.

 

“How could you __possibly__ know that?” Anderson exclaims from across the room, but John’s eyes widen and he smiles as he realizes what Sherlock already knows. They smile at each other before Mycroft sighs.

“Obviously, it’s the day John moved to 221B, I expect dinner after the case with the forced suicides..”

 

“Ohhh, the ‘Study in Pink’ case!!” Lestrade exclaimed from next to Mycroft, whose face twitched in disgust at the unfortunate naming of the case.

 

“Indeed, now should we proceed.”

 

**_**_Lifting the laptop out of the drawer, John decisively doesn_ ** _ ** **_**_’t look at the other object in there, namely his gun._ ** _ **

**_**** _ **

**_**_Putting the laptop onto the desk and opening the lid he looks at the webpage which has automatically loaded. It reads, “The personal blog of Dr. John H. Watson”. The rest of the page is blank._ ** _ **

**_**** _ **

 

“Oh so your blog isn’t that old then.” Donovan murmured. Lestrade shushed her so that Anthea wouldn’t pause the video.

 

**_**_Later he is at his psychotherapist’s office and he sits in a chair opposite her._ ** _ ** ****

****  
** ** ****ELLA: How’s your blog going?** **

****  
** ** ****JOHN: Yeah, good.** ** **_**_(He clears his throat awkwardly.)_ ** _ ** ****Very good.** **

 

Everyone snorts at John’s failed attempt at lying. The man really didn’t know how to lie.

****  
** ** ****ELLA: You haven’t written a word, have you?** **

****  
** ** ****JOHN** ** **_**_(pointing to Ella’s notepad on her lap)_ ** _ ** ****: You just wrote, “Still has trust issues.”** **

******  
******ELLA: And you read my writing upside down. D’you see what I mean?** ** ****  
** ** **_**_(John smiles awkwardly.)_ ** _ ** ****

****

“Good job, John” Sherlock smiled proudly at John. John’s little skill had surprised the detective when he’d found out some time ago while on a case, and it had proven itself handy in a couple more cases since. Not that Sherlock couldn’t do it, but it was a useful skill for the doctor to have.

 

John smiled back and ignored Anderson and Donovan’s whispering, though he could guess what they were saying from the way Lestrade scowled at them and shushed them.

****  
** ** ****ELLA: John, you’re a soldier, and it’s gonna take you a while to adjust to civilian life; and writing a blog about everything that happens to you will honestly help you.** **

******  
****_**_(John gazes back at her, his face_ ** _ ** **_**_blank but eyes full of despair. When he speaks, his voice is monotone)_ ** _ ** ****  
** ** ****JOHN:** ** **_**_Nothing_ ** _ ** ******happens to me.**

**_**** _ **

“Not to worry John, you’ll meet me soon.”

 

John, Lestrade and Ms Hudson chuckled at Sherlock’s arrogant words, so typical of him. True enough, thought John. He’d often thought that Sherlock had brought him alive that day when they’ve met, and he can’t imagine what would have happened if Mike wouldn’t have recowgnized him that day. Despite everything that happened, he doesn’t regret a thing.

 

Sherlock shifts next to him, and he realizes he’d been staring at him while he thought. Clearing his throat awkwardly he goes back to the screen, only to find it paused.

 

Mycroft clears his throat to get everyone’s attention, rising out of his armchair.

 

“I believe a small break is in order. In the anteroom you will find a lunch spread with a selection of snacks. Amenities are right outside on the left. Please do not wander off as the Diogenes Club is still fully functioning while we are watching these..memories. It would not do to disturb or have anyone inquire as to our proceedings here.”

 

Smiling thinly, Mycroft left the room, followed by Anthea who clasped the remote in one hand, her Blackberry in the other.

 

Lestrade came over to help Ms Hudson rise and accompanied her to the anteroom, knowing John and Sherlock needed a moment to themselves. Donovan and Anderson had scuttled out of the room as quickly as possible, not desiring to be in a room with Sherlock for more than they had to.

 

The door closed silently and John pursed his lips as Sherlock’s eyes burned a myriad of questiones and deductions on the side of his face.

 

________________

_**TBC** _

 


End file.
